Nagasaki Tales
by witchfingers
Summary: [Modern-day AU] #1: Fuu runs a marathon. #2: Mugen rethinks his employees. #3: Jin's in-laws come to town. (formerly "42 195 k")
1. marathon

**42.195 k**

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Best Buddy Jin tells him there's something he wants to discuss over some beers. Mugen's gut tells him he's about to get himself into some serious no-backing-away shit, partly because he knows Jin too damn well by now, but mainly because Jin hates beer.

They meet- Friday night, by the docks, right after Jin's long week of juggling criminal-lawyer paperwork-mornings and gym-owner-and-trainer afternoons ends. Mugen's knowledge of the quality of the pubs around is worthy, because his family owned a pretty sweet shipyard, (which he owns now all by his lonesome, because his folks were the live fast, die young kind of people).

They pick a seat by the window in the best seaside tavern around, where they can see the cobbled street lamp-lit in humid yellow through the wooden-framed glasspanes, and where the owner himself brings their pints over.

Jin can't drink for shit, and his first sip of beer has him discreetly pursing his lips at the bitter taste. Across him, Mugen smirks a knowing smirk and his glass earrings catch the dim light with a merry turquoise glistening.

'So, what's up, hmm?'. Asking and downing his beer are a simultaneous thing.

Jin gives up and pushes his own pint towards his friend. Calls the waiter.

With a steaming cup of green tea sitting now before him, laconic Jin begins his tale:

'About a month ago, a girl came to the gym, saying she wanted to train for this year's Bayside Marathon. Her will is impressive, but everything else about her is wrong. In few words, she's disastrous, she won't make it.'

Mugen is none the wiser, but he knows something is up because Jin fixes his glasses like he does when he's flustered. He raises an eyebrow.

'…so?'

'It breaks my heart', Jin says, setting the cup abruptly on the table, as if the admission discomfits him.

Of course it does. Mugen snickers.

'So what, bro? Ya got a chick already, what's all t'worry about?'

Jin sighs.

'If only it were that simple. ( _Mugen's 'Hah?' goes ignored_ ) She's the daughter of one of the partners in the study, who passed away last year. She'd promised to run this year with him, and she wants to keep the promise regardless.'

It starts to drizzle outside, of course.

'Chivalry-obliged to charity, hmm?' slides Mugen, like he can find it funny because such would _never_ happen to him.

'I'd like to help her, yes. All my trainers are full booked, though, and with my schedule, I can't dream of offering to take her up.'

Jin's serene eyes find his, and the message comes across clearly.

'Dude, no way!' roars Mugen, 'What do I look like? Mother fucking Theresa? I bet'cha there ain't even money involved in all this shit ye'r plannin'!'

'There's honor.'

'Fuck that!'

'Lower your voice…'

Mugen's glower would make lesser men cringe, but Jin is both mighty and used to it. He takes a sip of tea.

'I'll help you with the tax filings for that boat you're planning to buy.'

'Blackmail does not suit you,' Mugen spits ruefully, resenting how his interest is piqued.

'It's not blackmail; I was going to help you anyway.'

'Then what the hell…!?'

'It would be a nice gesture in retribution.'

'Well damn me,' Mugen says, and looks out of the window.

He spends the rest of the weekend pondering what exactly he's gotten himself into.

Monday finds him sizing up a petite, scrawny girl, who's out of breath right after running only two blocks at medium speed and he thinks, well, all he can think of are curses. He asks her question after question while she's honestly trying to catch her breath, and concludes that, for a 23 year-old, she looks like a wet dog of a pathetic high-schooler.

By the end of the day he's forgotten her name twice after she told him and he's given up trying to remember it, but he's also discovered she's got a temper that both amuses him, and irritates the hell out of him in equal parts.

'The hell kind of food ya eating, girlie?' he asks, on the second day. She gives him an unsatisfactory answer like 'what's around' 'what's in season' 'what gets done fast'; and he scolds the skin off her ears; and all the training she does that day is going scurrying to Jin's gym for a life-or-death appointment with one of his in-house nutritionists.

It rains on the third and fourth days, but, on the fifth, she kind of looks healthier; and Mugen's mind stomps fiercely on what had begun to feel like pride.

He makes her run ten times around the block, instead.

He's one damned hell of a trainer, he reckons, when by the end of week 2 she can run twenty times around the block without running out of breath or complaining a gazillion times about how he's gonna be the death of her (with a literary variation of curses). It's also about the time when he begins to kind of feel bad towards making her run, time and time again, around the _same_ block.

By week 3, he changes blocks.

…a couple of times.

By week 4, he includes some calisthenics into the routine, and even jogs alongside her once. Or twice.

It's on week five he gets cursed at the most, when he has her run with a 10kg boulder tied to her waist.

'How's that, slowpoke? Humbled now?' he taunts.

'You'll see when I get my hands on you…!'

But at the end of the day all she can do is watch him untie the knot and sag to the ground. She doesn't skin him, like she promised about six times, nor claws at his face like she'd wished to before; rather sits on that damned boulder, and takes the energy drink he offers with a satisfied gleam in her eyes. He answers with a weary smile, and cannot think of anything to say but:

'You earned it, girlie'.

He's proud, he realizes by the end of week 6.

By week 7, he's had her join him in his morning jogs up the hill in the city's outskirts, and she can almost keep up.

By week 8, she's dumped her boyfriend. She swears to herself it's got nothing to do with Mugen, but she still phones Jin and thanks him from her heart for all he's done for her.

By week 9 she's wearing a colorful t-shirt that says 'Bayside Marathon, 42k', stretching like she's been taught, brimming with confidence and enthusiasm.

 _Look at me now, dad!_ She thinks, offering a quick prayer, _It's like we'd imagined. I hope you're watching from up there._

Ready, set, go! Someone shoots. The roar of the crowd is like the waves.

She doesn't come first or second or third, rather comes one of the last when the crowd is already disbanding. But Jin and Mugen are waiting by the finishing line, two specks of blue and red mingled with the multitude she could see from the distance.

Jin gives her a bottle of water. Mugen ruffles her hair.

'You kept your promise,' Jin says -a veiled congratulation- smiling with his eyes way more than with his actual smile.

'Couldn't have done it without you,' Fuu answers, beams, she looks at Mugen. He can't hold the stare and looks away, but he's kinda flustered and the other two notice.

'Whatever. Come on now, you two, let's go grab somethin' to eat.'

So they start on their way, but she lingers behind, looking at the two unlikely friends, and the moonlight that starts to reflect on the still waters of the bay.

Mugen looks slightly over his shoulder.

'Ya coming, Fuu?'

'Yes yes!' she calls, and, though every muscle in her body complains, she skips till she reaches them, passes one arm around their shoulders, and makes them stumble.

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* * *

 **Author's Note:**

I love AU Samurai Champloo stories.

Part 2? Maybe... give me love, or ideas, or both :)


	2. accountancy

_[remember: this is an Alternate-Universe story!]_

* * *

 _._

 _._

 _._

 _A couple of months later…_

 _._

With some sort of glint in his eyes that Fuu cannot interpret -but that Shino (his fiancée) would know as mischievous- Jin hands her an envelope containing a stack of papers, plus a bottle of champagne.

"Knock yourselves out", he instructs, slight mirth seeping into his otherwise monotone voice, and hands her over a piece of paper with an address, written in his spotlessly calligraphic handwriting.

Jin's instruction seems odd at best to Fuu, who doesn't even _know_ him that well, but she's used to shrugging off the little quirks of those around her. Especially of her employers, even if they're only occasional employers. So she strategically positions the bottle inside her handbag, and sets off. Her watch reads 9:15 am.

.

To get to the address written on the paper, Fuu has to take two buses and walk ten blocks, which she can swear are longer than the standard length. The place is by the sea. It seems industrial and kinda deserted, the sort of place, thinks Fuu, where you're mugged and killed and the authorities only find your mangled body a week later. So, although it's nice and open-skied and fresh with sea-breeze, her imagination makes her get the chills anyway.

After much searching for house numbers in a place almost devoid of houses, she finally finds herself entering a compound of some sort, and knocking on the door of a small, yet very modern-looking office (the kind that is all white and glass and hi-tech).

A man with the odd combination of a smart suit and a green Mohawk opens the door so immediately that she startles.

Today, Fuu is wearing her glasses (she leaves them on to look more like a grown-up), nice clothes, and Jin's envelope under her arm: she looks like she could be anyone important, anyone rather than a part-time errand girl for a law firm where her dad used to be a partner.

That's what the man seems to think, too. His eyes scarcely scan her, then he's saying,

'You're the new accountant, right? Good, but you're late. The boss is gonna skin me alive for this, geez. Follow me, if you please? It's a ways back…'

Thus ushered, Fuu is too perplexed to form a coherent response. As luck will have it, she _is_ studying to become an accountant, but a girl can only study so much if she's gotta work two jobs to barely make ends meet. And so, dragged behind the man, with the world passing in a blur around her, she's not been able to come up with a clever-sounding way of telling him he's made a mistake, that he's stopped in front of a traditional-looking cabin with a weatherworn façade, and he's knocking, saying, 'Boss, the accountant!'.

It sounds like someone curses, then the door opens.

'Great. Now, scram,' a scratchy voice says, halfway between lazy and pissed. The man doesn't need to be told twice, and scram he does. In another setting, Fuu might've found it funny, but her uneasy frown is set, and becomes even uneasier when she _knows_ that voice.

'Oi, you comin' in or what?'

And so she steps in. Well, yes, it _was_ Mugen's voice, and it _is_ Mugen the one inside, standing, presiding over a sea of papers haphazardly spread over an overcrowded desk.

She thinks he's not seen her come in, but when she clears her throat to begin trying to explain herself, his eyes leave the papers and set on hers, and cuts her-

'The devil ya doin' here, girly? You're not the accountant!'

'Well, _no_ , I'm not the accountant! Your guy over there didn't give me much of a chance to _say it_ , though…'

'I'mma skin that bastard, should've never hired his confused ass… What'cha doing here anyway, eh?'

Fuu sighs. None of _any_ of this makes any sense to her- she'd even originally thought Mugen was some kind of street thug who lived under a bridge, and… well maybe not a _bridge_ , but she'd _definitely_ not have thought he'd be the "boss" of anyone…

'Well, I, uh. Jin sent me to deliver something to this address,' she says, handing him over the scrap of paper, 'Forgot to mention it was you, though…' she adds, sourly.

'Hah, sound like Fish-face's idea of a joke,' Mugen says, cracking the first smile-smirk since she'd come in (and only then she notices how seriousness doesn't seem natural to him).

'Well, hand it over, whatever it is,' he beckons.

She gives him the thick envelope, and fumbles with the handbag's zipper for a while, and then takes out the champagne and sets it on the desk, moving over some papers. He doesn't seem to mind, though he quirks an amused eyebrow at the bottle.

Funny, how she always felt at ease around Mugen when he was her trainer and she thought he was a no-one like her (even if she did want to _kill him_ every now and then). Funny, too, how she feels really _really_ out of place now, in this wooden cabin with this Mugen who's someone's _boss_ , and who probably owns everything around her.

Why didn't she ever _ask_ him anything about himself before? They'd seen each other every day for at least a month and a half, and she'd never have pegged him for an unassuming kind of guy, but…

.

While she's having this inner conversation, Mugen is reading Jin's papers, and a genuine smile sets on his lips, and it's the first time in at least a month that he actually feels happy.

'Hell yeah,' he says, with a satisfied gleam in his eye, and reaches for the bottle.

'Fetch two glasses from that closet, will ya?' he says, while he pops it open. She eyes him with slight suspicion, but does as asked.

In no time she finds herself with a glass filled to the brim with Jin's Dom Perignon, toasting to…

'My sweet new yatch! They're bringin' it over tomorrow, says Foureyes!'

'Y-yatch…?' she asks, dizzily. But then she grins, because, after all, seeing people happy makes her happy too, it's pretty normal, she reasons. Even if she's confused af.

'Yatch indeed!' he confirms with triumph, and, clanking his glass against hers, downs his drink in one gulp. 'Pretty decent stuff,' he appreciates.

And it might be, but Fuu does well to remember how lousy a drinker she is, and it's 10:30 am- she shouldn't be drinking anyway.

'Yeah, maybe it's better if ya do that', Mugen comments idly, as he sees her lower her glass, still half-full.

She wants to answer with a biting remark about how it's really none of his business if she drinks or if she doesn't (especially since _he_ was the one who wanted a toast, whatever), but then she catches his faint knowing smirk, and it dawns on her that probably he's remembering that night they went out to grab a bite after the marathon- _well_ , she thought _he'd_ at least remember, because she doesn't at all and that is the whole point of it.

So she puffs her cheeks instead, trying to be annoyed instead of curious at how? when? why? the yatch, and the business, and what not. This whole exchange has been a whirlpool of sudden information about Mugen, and she's pretty sure it's been too much for a single day already, considering that all he'd say to her during training would be things like 'skinny bitch', or, 'move your ass!'.

So she waves it all aside, in her mind, of course, and asks him why he'd need an accountant, anyway.

His face falls into a scowl.

'Ya had to go and ruin the mood, right?'

She blinks. 'So that's what got you sulking, huh? I didn't think that was an emotion you'd even _know…_ '

Fuu finds herself at the receiving end of a murderous, (if kind-of-mopey), glare.

'Geez, okay!' she huffs, 'Well, let me get a look at… whatever it is you need an accountant for.'

'The hell ya wanna look at that shit anyway?' he asks, not quite suspicious, but almost there.

She shrugs. 'I understand a thing or two, that's all.'

'Fine, suit yourself,' and a grand gesture with his arm presents to her the rat's nest of a mess on the desk.

'You mean to say…'

'Oh yes…'

She sighs, whimpers a ' _what did I get myself into?'_ under her breath, and starts to examine paper through paper. They are mainly company financial statements lying in a special kind of haphazard disarray that would make the bravest accountant reconsider it; but Fuu, well, she's tenacious.

'These are all pretty basic things… you _sure_ you need an accountant?'

'Look, girly, I suck at this. I don't know jackshit about these numbers and shit and that's why I'm payin' someone to do it for me. But that other guy, he pissed me off, acting all smart and shit…'

He mumbles something under his breath.

'What was that?' Fuu pipes.

'…plus, he quit,' repeats Mugen, sourly.

She _almost_ laughs, but laughing at him somehow doesn't feel like a good idea. And so she gets to work, sorting through dates and putting everything in the order in which it belongs.

Now and then, Mugen eyes her with feigned disinterest, and he's got the look pretty perfected so she never even guesses he's studying her.

.

Time passes- Fuu puts on her glasses for real, and Mugen wishes that champagne didn't last so little. Or that it at least has some more kick to it. _Actually_ , he thinks, bitterly, _it's a damn pansy drink. Typical Foureyes shit, that's what it is._

.

An hour and a half later, the papers are neatly stacked in six different piles, with Fuu thinking that being an errand girl for Jin will never really cover the cost of _that_ , and the bottle is empty and Mugen feels kind of twitchy. He's never quite mastered the art of being inside the same room for too long.

'Finished!' Fuu chirps, and takes a long, cat-like stretch. Mugen notices with appreciation that she's kept on with her work-out routine, but can't really pursue those thoughts, because she's talking again, saying things that's in his interests to pay attention to.

'This stack here are provider receipts for the last two years, this stack here are _older_ receipts. Your financial statements, well, I sorted them out by terms and divided them also like that, last two years here, older… hey! HEY! _Mugen_!' She calls, in fuming disbelief, as she sees him calmly exiting the place.

With his back towards her, he waves a hand over his head as he walks away: ' _Chill_ , girly, willja? I'm just gonna go get m'lazy-ass secretary, a'ight?'

She puffs her cheeks and curses him, but then goes back to making sure she got everything sorted alright. And besides, she reasons with herself, knowing that guy, it's probably for the better if someone else deals with the organization tasks, right?

Suddenly the vision of the last accountant quitting appears in her mind, and it's a pretty hilarious one. She giggles.

Mugen's familiar voice drifts from the threshold, mocking her suddenly: 'Who am I to judge who gets a kick outta what, right, buddy?'

A whimper answers him, and Fuu spins round to see the punk with the green Mohawk from earlier striking a slouchy, defeated pose, and being nudged by an evil-smirking, spindly, forever-cocky Mugen.

She lifts a doubtful eyebrow. ' _That's_ your secretary…?'

Mugen kind-of cackles. 'Right. You can explain it all to this guy here. See-ya!'

'Wait a minute, you!' she commands, and, inexplicably, Mugen stops in his tracks and looks at her with a shadow of surprise in his eyes.

'I assume it's _your_ business we're trying to set in order here, so man up and try to be in charge, will you?'

His slight surprise turns into a (chastised?) scowl. Again, Fuu finds herself thinking that this serious side of him looks kind of un-him, but she also realizes he's trying pretty hard to do this, especially when he hogs the one chair in the office and sits on it backwards, his arms crossed on top of the backrest and his chin on his arms.

'Well then, get on with it, willja?'

Doing her best to ignore the glowering presence of the 'secretary', she starts explaining all over again what each pile of papers is and what should be done with it. All throughout it, the secretary is taking frantic notes (she'd be scared too, though, in his place, to get something wrong…) and Mugen frowns, as if it really did tax him to figure out her words. He gets points for trying, she supposes.

'So, uh, that's it. Any questions, guys?'… though she really hopes they don't have any, because she's as tired as if it were like 8 pm, but it's only… She casually takes a routine glance at her watch.

'Oh shit…' she mumbles, eye kind of twitching, while the world seems to stop spinning. At the same time, the punk-secretary is raising his timid hand like he's in school, saying 'Well, actually, ma'am, I'd like to know wha-'

'Next time!' she manages, in a panicked tone of voice, as she frantically (and randomly) gathers her things in the biggest rush, while saying, like a mantra, 'oh, no no no… I'm totally gonna be late! Shit!'

Then she starts for the door.

'Hold on, girly' Mugen drawls, catching the edge of her blouse's sleeve, effectively yanking her into a rather rude stop: 'What's all the fuss about, huh?'

'I'm late for work! Oh _man_ , they're so gonna fire me this time!'

He smirks. ' _This_ time?'

'Shut up,' she says, rolling her eyes at him, 'Where's the nearest bus stop? I need to go to Clayvase Street…'

'Follow me,' he says in a tone that betrays an ' _I've got nothing better to do anyway'_ , picking up his black leather jacket as he walks outside, never once looking at Fuu.

Unseen by either, the Mohawked secretary finally ceases trembling, scratches the back of his neck, and sighs in resignation.

.

Fuu has to walk really fast to keep up with his long strides, and has to do her best, which includes biting her tongue, to avoid peppering him with questions that will probably sound annoying, plus pretty stupid, to him, like:

What's that crane for?

What's with everything being covered in tar?

Why is that ship upside down?

She can't really be blamed, she's never been in a shipyard before. (Actually, she doesn't even _know_ that she is in a shipyard.)

She also tries to reign in the mistrust that starts to arise from the awareness that they're going in a different direction than where she assumed the main road would be. Because, this is Mugen, you can trust Mugen, she tells herself.

Even if they're going to what looks like a large parking lot full of trucks stacked with odd building materials, and populated by shady fellows with a sailorish air (but not sailorish enough to look like proper sailors…), that hulk about and shoot eerie looks her way, ranging from leering to smirking to confused as heck (those last looks are mainly aimed at their boss, though, as if they can't place the petite girl that struggles to catch up with him in their picture of him).

Mugen largely ignores them. He replies with a curt nod to the occasional greeting, and Fuu composes herself into looking unaffected by the odd attention- they're probably rough men who don't often have the chance to look upon cute girls like herself, that's all, she tells herself. _But where the heck are we going…?_

Her mind pipes in: _You can trust- oh._

Suddenly they're standing before a really cool sports bike, and he's slipping a helmet on and handing her another one.

'What? Never seen a bike before?'

''Uhhh…' she says inelegantly, managing to break out of it by staggering a half-convincing 'Just didn't think you were the type to wear a helmet'.

'I kinda had to reconsider after those damned cops took my license last time. And threw me in jail for not likin' it. Fuckin' waste of time… goddammit, I hate cops.'

'You were in jail?', she asks, not as surprised as she could be, as she finishes fitting her helmet.

'Couple a' times, yeah. Hop on, willja?'

Gingerly, she climbs up behind him, and tentatively wraps her arms around him.

'…Oi, don'tcha fall off, eh?' he comments, snidely.

The helmet's good, she concludes. Even if he couldn't see her reluctant blush unless he turned round, she's protected from the stares of the sailorish folk. She tries to act tough, and finds herself saying, kind of bickering, 'Whatever. Just so you know, this isn't the bus, though, you jerk.'

'Ungrateful bitch,' he says, amicably despite himself, and starts the engine.

.

.

Mugen drives like he seems to do everything else, and Fuu fears for her life.

She also feels weirdly free, too, though, and that, she thinks, is amazing.

.

When her directions bring them to a stop before a random hipster-like café, Mugen immediately thinks that it looks like the kind of place he'd never set a foot into if it was up to him. Then, suddenly, he finds himself looking carefully at the girl who's now struggling to get the helmet off.

'Oi,' he says, 'You a waitress?'

It's an innocent-enough question, but there's –something- in the tone of his voice that makes Fuu eye him with some suspicion.

'Yeah, so?'

He shrugs. 'Not like I give a rat's ass, but that shit you pulled back at my place with tha' damn paperwork hell was pretty smart. Beats this anyday. Just sayin'.'

Reflexively, she steals a glance at her humble workplace. Then, she looks at him, and inexplicably it feels like it's the first time she really _sees_ him. Even if he's still wearing his helmet.

'Sorry,' she puffs her cheeks, averting her eyes and trying not to feel _too_ ashamed, 'Some of us aren't lucky enough to own our own place. And this is all I could find that lets me study _and_ pay the rent too, so… Beggars can't be choosers, y'know…'

'Yeah,' says Mugen abruptly, 'I know.' He's not big on contemplative silences, so he's grateful when she mumbles that she's got to go, anyway.

'Tell ya what,' he finds himself saying, despite his better judgement (though he rarely pays it much heed, mercurial as he is), 'S'ppose a friend needed an accountant…'

Fuu finds herself quirking an eyebrow, and stomping at some silly hope that she's sure she's making up, at the same time.

'Ya said it's no big deal, what's got to be done…(he pauses, thinks…) I'd fire your ass, tho, if ya ever tried t'scam me...'

But just as he's beginning to doubt himself, she _beams_ at him, goddammit.

'For real? You're really, _totally_ serious? Well what'd it be about? What pay would we be talking about?'

'Dunno… eh… whatever it is ya' do, I guess. And prolly for more than whatever sorry shit you get here…' he says, eyeing the place dubiously.

Someone from inside the café spots her outside and calls her. The voice sounds annoyed and strained, and Fuu winces.

'I'll think about it!' she whispers, conspiratorially, 'I'll get your number from Jin later… Thanks for the ride!'

She scuttles inside, her excitement a mixture of happiness, fear of the unknown, and a suspicious rush of rosy giddiness she pushes to the back of her mind. In her rush, she somehow forgets that she's still got the helmet tucked under her arm.

.

.

Sniffing a storm in the air, Mugen thinks that in spite of that he might just go and have a drink by the docks, maybe indulge in a healthy dose of gambling on the outcomes of the oncoming Regional Sailing Competition. Just to occupy himself somewhere away from the shipyard, and his thoughts somewhere away from the fact that he's been giving too many damns about too many things the last couple a'years. Not that it hasn't been to his utmost benefit and profit, but he wouldn't wanna lose his essence, right? Whatever that actually is?

He sighs, pulling to a side and stopping randomly at a point in the highway where he can look out to the bay and see the midday sun glimmering on the blue sea –and right at the edge of the horizon, the first gray yawns of the oncoming storm.

Who would've thought it of him, eh? To have come this far? Surely not his good-riddance, good-for-nothing parents, and much less whatever's left of those deadbeat relatives of his in Amami-Oshima. He pulls off his helmet and lights a cigarette, letting the playful wind blow the smoke into his face, and then away to the sea.

He idly chooses which bar to go to, in his mind. He takes a drag at the cigarette. Maybe he'll get lucky and score a chick, too…

 _'I'll think about it!' Fuu'd whispered, conspiratorially, 'I'll get your number from Jin later…'_

… Or maybe not today.

.

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* * *

 _ **Author's Note:**_

...

1- Mugen's secretary is the punk from "Artistic Anarchy"

2- I shiver at the thought of Mugen being my boss. Just saying…

3- "black leather jacket" of course, hehe. I've not read a single present-day AU in which Mugen doesn't have one. As it should be!

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I think that Mugen inherited the company from his parents when he was pretty young, but wasn't legally able to be in charge, not that he wanted to anyway. So he grew up, always punking around and being in and out of jail (not always in the same country), met Jin and became his arch-frenemy, sailed around places sometimes legally and sometimes not, until he returned for a while home where he met Jin again, who'd become a lawyer and who convinced him to do something about his parents' company now that he was of age, like, hire some administrators and enjoy the profit. He was lucky he listened to Jin and stuff worked out.

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Well, maybe I'll leave it there. If you guys liked it and review, maybe I'll write another chapter. I guess it's up to you :) Read you around!


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